Hiking

Hiking

When I'm not running there's a good chance that I'm still moving around exploring - just at a snail's pace instead of a turtle's pace. My "Sunday Stroll" series is a result of exploring local trails with family and friends, and one of my favorite weekend activities is strapping on all the gear I need for a couple days and backpacking into the wilderness.

That awesome close-to-home hike that beginner and experienced hikers both love

How do I organize a hike that is both interesting for experienced hikers and isn't overwhelming to new hikers? That's a hard balance; I remember being a new hiker when 2-3 miles felt like quite a hike, and I also remembered thinking recently how now my definition of a "hike" is vastly different than what it was a few years ago. How do I reconcile the two and find something that would appeal to everyone?

Standing Indian Loop on the Appalachian Trail: How a myth, a storm, and friendship can electrify your perspective

A long time ago, in the area where Franklin, NC now sits, local Cherokee told a story of a winged beast that swooped down from the skies and stole children. Heartbroken and desperate, the local villagers sent a warrior to the highest mountain to keep watch for the winged monster and to discover its lair. The warrior found the lair, but it was in a place in the mountains inaccessible to humans, so the Cherokee villagers prayed to the Great Spirit for assistance. The Great Spirit heard their pleas and sent thunder and lightning to destroy the winged monster. The lightning scarred the surrounding mountains but the warrior, afraid for his life, tried to abandon his post. To punish his act of cowardice the Great Spirit sent a bolt of lightning to the mountain summit, leaving a bald and turning the warrior to stone. From that day forward the mountain was called Yunwitsule-nunyi which means "where the man stood."

Today we call it Standing Indian Mountain. The bald is still there, as well as the rock scars on the sides of the nearby mountains, but the rock shaped like a man is crumbling, forgotten to all except those that know to look for it.

Clingmans Dome to Jockey's Ridge: 680 miles of trail and over 500 miles of connecting roads

It's always a surprise when I stumble across the Mountains-to-Sea Trail. This summer I will have lived in North Carolina for twenty years and through this whole time the Mountains-to-Sea Trail has been like an old friend who keeps popping up again - someone I knew and liked throughout my life but never got to know intimately even though we share interests and keep rubbing elbows over the years.

The Risks and Responsibilities of Writing about the Outdoors

My post on Wednesday was originally intended to provide information about long distance trails - specifically the Appalachian Trail and Mountains-to-Sea Trail - as an introduction for those unfamiliar to long-distance hiking, but a post just vomiting facts and metrics is no fun. Hence, the post on Wednesday turned into a passionate romanticization of long-distance trails. But as much as I wax poetic about the outdoors, I also feel a bit of guilt: I wonder if romanticizing the outdoors does it a disservice - that I am dismissing the dangers of the wilderness, downplaying the difficulty of the trail, or even encouraging others to find these beautiful spaces and disrespect or even defile them - intentionally or not - with cairns, graffiti, trash, or even just a proliferation of tourists with selfie sticks. An influx of people chasing selfies in exotic places for the sake of social media likes frequently brings up the debate regarding sharing the location of scenic spots - do you share the secret and risk it being overrun, or do you risk being a snob and keep your favorite places hidden?

How long distance trails can become embedded in our psyche

I don't know when I first heard about the Appalachian Trail. It seems like I've always known about it, like it was some seed of knowledge that was embedded deep in my psyche before I was even born, but I must have learned about it at some point. Most likely I was just exposed to bits and pieces of information about the trail and so I learned about it piecemeal. Even the first time I set foot on the trail - on a day hike in Virginia with one of my best friends from college - I hadn't quite grasped the true meaning of the trail. I understood it existed and I understood you could hike it. I even understood that you could thru-hike it if you were crazy enough to love mountains and pain and you disliked showers and soft beds, but I certainly didn't grasp that there was an entire culture of people who lived and breathed the trail.

You all know I L-O-V-E a good goal or challenge, from running streak challenges, writing streak challenges, year-long goals, monthly goals, and everything in between. My pea-sized attention span needs something to latch onto and tackle to prevent me from jumping around from one shiny thing to the next (oooh shiny!) And while the challenges I tackle tend to be oriented around a personal goal - be a better writer/runner/hiker/biker/climber/person/etc. - I can enjoy watching a good fad challenge like the next person who is bored at work (I mean...stuck in traffic. No no I mean waiting in line at the coffeeshop! That's the one.) Remember the Ice Bucket Challenge? Or the Mannequin Challenge? Or even the Harlem Shake Challenge? Ah, good times. But I do draw the line at certain challenges - like the recent Tide Pod Challenge. Here are my votes on challenges to avoid and challenges to tackle (spoiler: they involve the outdoors, shocking!)

Waterfalls abound on 5 mile hike outside Morganton, NC

I am still trying to catch up on sleep after this weekend. I always strive to be the type of person who gets up early in the morning and is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to tackle the world, but in reality I'm at my best energy levels sometime after 8pm and before 5am. I have a friend who is the same way and she calls us "morning owls" - fighting our natural circadian rhythms just to get a little more mileage into our days. So with that in mind, Saturday morning was an eeeeearly morning for me. I woke up at 5am and had to force myself out of bed, all groggy and groaning and rubbing crusty sleep from my eyes. I'd already woken up early the day before for a pre-work climbing session, so two early mornings in a row was hella hard. But the mountains were calling, and I had a date with a meet-up group.

Exploring trails at private mountain retreat in the snow

This recent snow from the "bomb cyclone" or whatever cute name we're supposed to call it calls to mind the trip McCrae and I made to Bullhead Mountain a few weeks ago. It had snowed a few days before we drove up to a small town outside Boone to stay at a mountain cabin owned by McCrae's uncle and aunt, and in the morning when we pulled on our warmest hats and coats the drifts lay deep in the mountain shadows.

I was going through the backlog of hikes I planned on posting on the blog, and I was shocked to discover that I did this Durant Nature Preserve hike in September! I am seriously that behind on posts, and I'm also amazed at how quickly this fall has disappeared.I met my dad early one morning in September for a Sunday stroll in Durant Nature Preserve in north Raleigh. I'd seen signs for it off Capital Boulevard every time I went to to the WRAL soccer park complex, and finally curiosity got the best of me and I decided to check it out.

If you're thinking of hiking up Slickrock Creek Trail in the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness, I have some advice for you: don't do it.

I'm pretty sure that hike was the most miserable hike of my life. I'm also pretty sure I'm going to have scars from that hike. The trail was completely overgrown with rhododendron and blackberries and briars and my legs looked like they were the loser in a fight with some barbed wire. My arms weren't much better and I think my feet will never forgive me for that day.

I was never this worried before about venturing into the wilderness. I wasn't sure if it was because everyone else's fears of the wilderness were seeping into me, or if it was because my general anxiety about the world was increasing, or if it was just that I was venturing into wilder and more remote places and, honestly, that's scary.

When was the last time I'd backpacked alone? And I mean really and truly alone - no Ryder pup, not even other hikers nearby. I was out there in the wilderness and I felt completely alone. I was acutely aware of every noise in the forest around me and I realized I was never this worried before about venturing into the wilderness. I wasn't sure if it was because everyone else's fears of the wilderness was seeping into me, or if it was because my general anxiety about the world was increasing, or if it was just that I was venturing into wilder and more remote places and, honestly, that's scary. But I had to take this leap of faith. I had to prove to myself that I could be alone in the wilderness and that it would be alright.

Bald camping, meteors, a dog who decides to be a pest, and blueberries

Awkward and anticlimatic. That's pretty much how that weekend went. Work hard, go someplace new on your own, try not to freak out about the new place or people or being on your own, and still things just play out really awkwardly anyways. Sounds about right for me. And so I ran away to the mountains where Ryder was a jerk and the sky was cloudy and obscured the meteor shower and my tripod lost its handle and I totally missed Shining Rock.

Even in a remote wilderness, the solar eclipse draws a crowd

Some photography requires just the right setup, just the right lighting, just the right variables, just the right whatever, but that's not how I operate in the backcountry. I just want to watch, to identify some small moment and capture it forever.

Some weekend trips just work out perfectly. Sometimes you expect tough climbs or bad weather, or that you'll have to sleep in a cold car the night before you get on the trail. And sometimes you get a bed & breakfast and a beautiful sunset on a stunning bald. My friend Sherry and I explored the Appalachian Trail from Carver's Gap to 19E over Easter weekend, and it was one beautiful adventure!

How I introduced my friend to backpacking with incredible views and juuuuuuust a wee bit of snow

We had a few days off work on March 16 and 17 (rumor has it we got those days off because of the start of the NCAA tournament), so with the extra free time my friend Emily and I headed off to the mountains to hike a section of the Appalachian Trail.This was Emily's first backpacking trip and the pressure was on me to make sure she 1) didn't die, and 2) had a good time. (Spoiler: I delivered on #1, and hopefully on #2!)

Coastal state park offers miles of hiking through pine savannah, hardwoods, wetlands, and swamp

It's a bit of a drive out to the land of pine and sandhills and brackish water where the Pamlico River meets the ocean, but it was a beautiful day for a hike under the loblollies while buzzards flew above the treetops, the sun rimming their broad wings with tips of gold. We'd driven to Washington, NC - just a couple miles outside historic Bath, NC - to explore Goose Creek State Park, a swampy park with boardwalks, Spanish moss, and scrub pines.

A short drive north of Durham there's a park that promises few crowds and fun trails for hikers and mountain bikers

The last time we went to Rougemont we were going to see a house, and on the way we ended up stuck behind, well, a house. A massive truck was moving this massive house down this tiny country road - a country farmhouse with whitewash peeling off the side boards, scraping past oaks whose branches creeped over the road's narrow shoulder. We managed to avoid any Rougemont houses this past weekend, making our way to Little River Regional Park & Natural Area, a cooperative conservation park funded by Durham and Orange counties.

Raven Rock on a winter morning with the clouds so thick you can't find the sun is a monochrome monolith. The rock wall rises from the Cape Fear River and looms over the lazy waterway like Polyphemus gazing slothfully over his sheep while Odysseus and his crew scramble in the shadows. McCrae and I met up with my dear friend Becky and we explored the rocky trail for a morning.

I love a good challenge. Last October I participated in a "Write 31 Days" challenge, but that wasn't painful enough so I added a 31 day running challenge on top of it. I might have been a couple posts short of 31 with the writing challenge, but I nailed the running challenge! It's been a couple months though and it's a fresh new year, so I think it's time for another challenge.

What's in a word? Or rather, what's in a silence? Long, hard work at a day job, and long, physical work in Johnston County forced my silence for the past week. I've never been one to plan blog posts more than a couple days in advance, so with a sudden onslaught of extra responsibilities and the sudden lack of time (an hour commute each way and extra work killed all my blogging and running time) meant radio silence. On Saturday though, stuck in Johnston County, I took the chance to explore somewhere new for a little stroll.

Umstead State Park is not an escape. Let's just go ahead and get that cleared up. You're not going to Umstead State Park to get away, to find yourself in some remote place or discover some backcountry route. But that being said, Umstead State Park is a good place to get away.

I realized recently that as much as I talk about the American Tobacco Trail and as often as I go running on the trail that I've never actually written a blog post on it. Clearly I had to fix this. The American Tobacco Trail is the product of a rails-to-trails project converting 22+ miles of railroad track into a mixed use trail. The ATT now runs from Durham to Apex and includes miles of paved, mixed, and compact gravel surfaces. Since the trail is so long and has diverse surfaces and amenities at intermittent trailheads I am breaking this up into a series of posts focusing on a few miles at a time and highlighting special features, parking, and amenities, starting with the New Hill-Olive Chapel trailhead.

Just like there's nothing quite like filling up on turkey and stuffing there's nothing like a three day weekend for getting outside. Last year REI announced that they would close on Black Friday and "#OptOutside" and they encouraged others to retreat from the bustle of shopping and commercialism and embrace some nature. This year #OptOutside is making a comeback with more companies and organizations on board. Just as I opted outside last year with a backpacking trip on Art Loeb Trail and Cold Mountain, this year I'm opting outside because let's face it - do I really need an excuse to get outside? 😉

Yates Mill. Everybody in the Raleigh area goes to Yates Mill in the fall. Except me apparently, so of course I had go check it out. I called my dad and he eagerly met up with McCrae and me for another Sunday stroll.

The heat and humidity sulked over Kentucky like an unwelcome heavy blanket. In the Red River Gorge it lay so thick that the Kentucky bass could have risen from the water and thrived on the land gulping down swallows of wet air. Horseflies the size of fingers sliced through the haze with their glittering wings and left welts on sticky skin from their careening flights and sharp bites. At the campsite on the edge of Middle Fork Red River I melted. I slipped into the cool creek and watched crawdads dart from under polished stones.

I've got to tell you this: I love Carolina North at UNC Chapel Hill. The last time I lived in Chapel Hill I rented an apartment right across the street from Carolina North so I would just run across the street and hop on the Pumpkin Trail for my regular run. The Pumpkin Trail is a local area runner favorite: there are UNC students, community running groups, local area high school cross country runners, neighboring folks out walking their dogs, trail runners, annual Pumpkin Run and Philosopher's Way participants, power walkers, mountain bikers, and all other variety of people.

Out West gets all the fun. Places like California and Utah and Colorado are constantly in the headlines of adventure and outdoor articles. The big name national parks are featured in movies and pictures and lists like “10 Trails You MUST Hike This Summer!” and “5 Lakes That Are Perfect For Camping.” The outdoor community has its epicenter in the great wilds out West, but what about people who don’t live in these places? What about the people on the East Coast?

I was slow to get moving on Saturday morning, putzing around for last minute packing and shopping for food like salami and trail mix. All this meant I was a little slow to leave for Boone, past rusting cars in a field by a sign that read "Dirt for Sale" and billboards and signs advertising ski supplies and fly fishing guides. Worse than being late though was finding the Profile Trail parking lot blocked by orange cones and a sign that read "Lot Full." I skidded into a parking lot down the road from the trailhead to try to figure out my next move. There was another trail option for hiking up Grandfather Mountain: I just had to find it.

There's a reason why hikers get wide-eyed and eager when they hear "Grayson Highlands." There's a reason why those who have been before return time and again, and why those who haven't been are encouraged to go as soon as they can. Ponies! Balds! Easy hiking! PONIES!